


When You Give An Angel Tumblr

by fractalgeometry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Consent, Humor, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic relationship, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), consent isn’t just for sex y'all, hair petting, having your partner be your weighted blanket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: “It’s not abook,”Aziraphale said, a shade crossly. “It’s one of those internet things. People write their own ideas and put it on the internet and other people read it. Really, Crowley, don’t be deliberately dense. I know you’ve done things on-”“Wait, wait, hold up,” Crowley ordered, putting up a hand. “Please don’t tell me you meanTumblr?”~Aziraphale explores Tumblr, and finds that Crowley has been using the anonymity of the Internet to share things that he hasn’t quite managed to mention to Aziraphale. Aziraphale is happy to give Crowley what he wants. Cuddles and relaxation ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 263





	When You Give An Angel Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> The Tumblr post that they talk about is [this one.](https://earthbison.tumblr.com/post/161844616991/glumshoe-what-i-say-im-touch-starved-what/amp)

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?” Crowley didn’t look up from his phone until he felt the sofa move as Aziraphale sat down. “Thought you were doing some book thing-or-other.”

“I thought I might take a break. I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Oh?” Crowley tipped his phone back, settling his attention on Aziraphale. “Shoot.”

“I was reading tumbles today, and I saw something I thought we should talk about.” Aziraphale was holding a piece of paper in his hand, folding and unfolding it over and over. Crowley frowned at it.

“Hold on, you were reading what?”

“Tumbles.” Aziraphale looked thoughtful. “Or is it tumbling? I don’t remember.”

“I’m really not following you here, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, feeling progressively more confused. “I don’t know as much about books as you do, remember?” Well, no one knew as much about books as Aziraphale, but Crowley was the only one currently trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“It’s not a _book,”_ Aziraphale said, a shade crossly. “It’s one of those internet things. People write their own ideas and put it on the internet and other people read it. Really, Crowley, don’t be deliberately dense. I know you’ve done things on-”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Crowley ordered, putting up a hand. “Please don’t tell me you mean _Tumblr?”_

Aziraphale brightened. “Oh, of course! It’s just a different form of the word. Although really, I don’t see how it relates to an internet site, but-”

“Why were you reading stuff on Tumblr?” Crowley interrupted, before they could get too far off-topic. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking a little chagrined. Some of Crowley’s confusion evolved into nervousness. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, my dear, and I thought I ought to see what the fuss is about. Try to _get with the times,_ as they say.”

“So you thought Tumblr was a good place to start _getting with the times.”_ Crowley finished, just barely managing to avoid putting air quotes around the words.

“Was I wrong?” Aziraphale asked, looking so honestly worried that Crowley wished he could take back what he just said and maybe some more for good measure. 

“No! Not _wrong._ Just. Tumblr can be a bit much at first. It’s practically got its own language, lots of humans don’t even understand the stuff that goes on there. What did you want to ask about?”

Crowley, as opposed to literally every other demon (and angel) in existence, had quite a bit of experience with Tumblr, and even considered himself to have had a hand in some of the more confusing parts. If you had told him that morning that he’d be trying to explain it to Aziraphale later in the day, he would have said you were nuts. And yet, here he was. Wonders never cease, and all that.

“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “You spend time on tumbler, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Crowley said warily. 

His phone, abandoned and ignored in his lap, turned itself off.

“I thought so.” Now Aziraphale was back to folding and unfolding that mysterious scrap of paper. After a moment he said, “I think I found you there.”

Crowley’s mouth opened halfway, then closed again. He stared at Aziraphale for a long moment, finally managing an only half-choked, “Did you.” He swallowed and tried again. “What makes you think that?”

“Your tumbler name isn’t exactly subtle.”

Since it _wasn’t,_ if someone knew him well enough to tie it to him, Crowley couldn’t really argue with that.

“And,” Aziraphale continued, “you have several posts mentioning doing things that I know you’ve done.”

Since that was true too, Crowley still didn’t argue. He did say, “Okay. Is there something you wanted to talk about besides you internet-stalking me?”

“It is not _stalking!”_ Aziraphale said, aghast. “I am sitting here and telling you that I did it! Does that sound like-”

“It’s a figure of speech!” Crowley squawked, raising his hands in surrender. “I don’t actually think you’re stalking me!”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sat back. “Good. Because I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Crowley said. He still felt like he couldn’t quite grasp where this conversation was heading, but was pretty sure it was heading somewhere. It was making him nervous.

There was a moment of silence. Crowley wished strongly for it to be over.

“My original point,” Aziraphale said, “was to ask you about a piece of writing that I came across.”

“Got it,” Crowley said. “Do tell.”

“Ah. Yes. Someone was talking about being _touch-starved.”_

Crowley’s stomach abruptly became an empty hole.

“They had quite an interesting explanation,” Aziraphale continued, apparently oblivious to Crowley’s reaction. “And I couldn’t help but notice-” now he unfolded the paper and looked down at it, “that you put it in your collection with a note that says, quote, _this is the biggest mood i’ve seen all week.”_

In spite of the growing ball of mortification and dread in his chest, Crowley found his affection for Aziraphale growing slightly out of control at the sound of him saying _the biggest mood_ with a straight face. 

“Okay,” he managed to say, with only a slight waver in his voice. “Your point?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, picking up steam now that he was in the main part of his speech, “I didn’t know what that _means,_ obviously, so I did some research.”

“Of course you did,” Crowley said wryly.

Aziraphale gave him a look. “It was quite tricky to find good information. I do believe I have the general idea, however.” He turned more fully towards Crowley, looking earnest and well-intentioned in a way that made Crowley unsure whether he wanted to flee or stay right there forever. “It would appear,” he said, “that it means you agree with the statements this other person made, is that right?”

Crowley’s brain was trying to have several thoughts at once, failing, and ending up with a mass of gibberish. He finally got to _oh my earth Aziraphale knows what “mood” means,_ which was perhaps objectively not the most obvious takeaway from the new revelations, but felt close enough. 

“Uh,” he said.

“Are you all right, dear?” Aziraphale asked, with a hint of actual worry. 

“Yeah!” Crowley said, trying to mentally shake himself without actually shaking his head. “Just trying to get over the fact that you _researched the internet meaning of ‘mood’.”_

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, sitting back. “I do research things quite a lot, you know. It’s hardly noteworthy.”

Crowley nodded rapidly, trying to collect his thoughts. 

“Anyway,” Aziraphale continued. “Given that interpretation, I thought I’d ask if you wanted to try it.”

“Try what?” 

Aziraphale blinked. “The act described in the-”

“Oh, that.” Crowley said, in the tone one would use when invoking the deity of their exclamatory choice. “Don’t call it an _act,_ for Pete’s sake. It makes it sound-”

“Who’s Pete?” Aziraphale interrupted.

“Who’s- _Aziraphale!”_ Crowley gave in to the impulse to bury his head in his hands. “It’s a figure of _speech!”_ he told his lap. 

“I know.” Aziraphale sounded _amused,_ the bastard. “It’s only that it’s so much fun to make you think I’ve never heard modern English.”

Crowley brought his head up to glare at his friend. “With the way you talk, can you blame me?”

“I don’t usually speak in German, but I do know how,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

Crowley conceded the point with a sideways nod. 

“So would you like me to try-” Aziraphale glanced at the piece of paper he was holding again- “platonically lying across yo-”

“I remember what it says,” Crowley interrupted, a little more sharply than he meant to. “Sorry. Why are you offering? I mean…”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, finally looking a tiny bit embarrassed, “You said it was ‘the biggest mood’, which indicates you are interested, and I find myself...intrigued. Decidedly open to the possibility.”

“Ghfk,” said Crowley.

“Am I supposed to interpret that as interest?”

Crowley sighed. Very carefully straightened up. Sighed again. “Fine. Yes. I’m interested. I’m also metaphorically dying of mortification that you’ve been _reading my Tumblr,_ and that’s a bit distracting.”

“Oh. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Crowley waved a hand. “‘S fine. I put it on the internet, after all. Should know nothing’s really private there. Just takes some getting used to.”

“Still.” Aziraphale got off the sofa. “Shall we go upstairs, then?”

Crowley stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“I expect a bed will be more comfortable,” Aziraphale explained. “And there isn’t one down here.”

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Um. Let’s go then.”

Crowley had been to the flat above the bookshop before. They still tended to spend their time downstairs, mostly because _Aziraphale_ spent most of his time downstairs, but every so often there was something Aziraphale wanted to show him, or fetch, or some other reason to go up. And on a few memorable occasions, Crowley had fallen asleep in the bookshop and woken up the next morning (or once, a week later) in a bed that was surprisingly comfortable and well-kept for how little Aziraphale used it. So the experience wasn’t entirely new. Which was probably good for Crowley’s sanity.

As soon as they reached the bedroom, Aziraphale started to slide his coat off. At Crowley’s surprised look, he said, “Well, I don’t want it to get rumpled lying down, do I?” and hung it on a hook near the door. 

Crowley removed his own much more slowly and tossed it haphazardly on a side table. By the time he finished that, Aziraphale had somehow lost both his tie and his shoes and was waiting expectantly by the bed. And, yeah, Crowley was definitely getting some whiplash from how quickly his plans for the afternoon had changed. Still, whiplash or no, he wasn’t going to back out now, so he kicked off his own shoes.

“How do you want to go about this?” he asked. 

“I imagine you ought to lie down first,” Aziraphale said, with a hint of amusement that would have been annoying if it weren’t so thoroughly endearing. “And then I’ll join you.”

And really, with Aziraphale being so matter-of-fact about the whole escapade, Crowley couldn’t hold onto his awkwardness much longer.

“We can stop if you’re uncomfortable,” Aziraphale added, because he was kind and loving and perceptive and a thoroughly amazing person who Crowley was all too lucky to know. 

“Nope,” Crowley said, because if there was one being in the universe who he trusted enough to try new things with, it was Aziraphale. “Definitely don’t want to stop.”

And he flung himself facedown on the bed. 

It was, just as he remembered, remarkably comfortable. He planted his face in the nearest pillow and took several deep, calming breaths.[1] Then he turned his head to rest his cheek on the bed, pushing the pillow out of the way. “Okay.”

The bed moved as Aziraphale climbed on, and his knee bonked Crowley’s leg. 

“I don’t want to fall on you,” Aziraphale said worriedly.

“You won’t,” Crowley said. “Get on with it.”

Aziraphale settled his other leg on the far side of Crowley and sat down on Crowley’s legs. Crowley wanted to point out that that wasn’t quite what they were aiming for, but he couldn’t quite find the words. Even the localized weight on his legs felt settling, like something buzzy and frenzied in his head was calming down. He hummed a little.

Aziraphale moved again, leaning forward to place his hands on either side of Crowley’s torso, then lowering himself down to lie on Crowley’s back. The contact itself was mildly interesting — they had been ramping up the physical contact recently, but it was still mostly limited to hugs and occasionally sitting near each other on the sofa — and the percentage of Aziraphale’s weight that was now right on top of Crowley definitely was. Crowley was suddenly very glad that Aziraphale had decided to learn about Tumblr.

“Is this good?” Aziraphale asked, his voice coming from right behind Crowley’s head.

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Yeah, s’good.”

Aziraphale shifted, then, and lifted his legs one by one to lie on top of Crowley’s. He rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder and covered Crowley’s arms with his own, lacing their fingers together. Crowley’s eyes closed without his conscious approval, and he decided to leave them that way, reveling in the fascinating feeling of being firmly and uniformly pressed into the bed. His brain seemed to be switching off all excess functions, narrowing his attention to the lines of contact along each of his legs, the feeling of Aziraphale’s head on his shoulder, the main concentration of weight on his middle. 

Slowly, Crowley relaxed. The tension he knew was always hanging out in his limbs decided it had better places to be, like far away from the drifting demon on the bed and his angel blanket. Then more tension started to leave, feelings and stresses that he hadn’t even been noticing, except now they weren’t there anymore. There was just the bed pressing into his cheek, and the rumple in the blanket beneath his right knee, and Aziraphale’s calm, heavy presence on top of him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Aziraphale asked. His voice was quiet, but it was still a jarring addition to Crowley’s rapidly narrowing world.

“Mm,” Crowley said hazily. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Aziraphale said, and settled in a little more, nose brushing the back of Crowley’s neck in a way that would have tickled if Crowley had ever even considered being ticklish. Since he hadn’t, it was just comfortable.

Crowley wasn’t sure how long they lay there, though he was peripherally aware that time must be passing, because that’s what time does. Once or twice he surfaced enough to start feeling a little awkward again — what if Aziraphale was tired of lying here but didn’t want to tell him, what if he had misread something somewhere — but it was hard to keep hold of the worried thoughts. They kept slipping away as soon as he got a grasp on them. 

At one point he blinked awake and realized that he had previously been asleep. The window was darkening, and it occurred to Crowley that they must have been lying there for a good while. 

“Aziraphale?” he mumbled sleepily.

Aziraphale didn’t move, but he did squeeze Crowley’s hand a little. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, dearest.”

They fell back into silence, but Crowley felt himself losing the comfortable hazy sensation he’d been floating in. He sighed a little.

After a moment Aziraphale detached his right hand from Crowley’s and shifted slightly so he could reach up and run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Crowley’s eyes closed again without his conscious choice, and he tipped his head a little closer to Aziraphale’s hand. 

“You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Did what?” Aziraphale asked innocently, voice low behind Crowley’s head.

“The hair thing.”

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale said in a lofty tone that was thoroughly ruined by the way his fingers were still gently combing through said hair.

Crowley huffed, but didn’t move. 

Eventually, though, even his immortal limbs started to demand movement. Aziraphale’s leg fell to the bed as Crowley tried to stretch, and Crowley had to admit that words would be required for the next step of the evening, whatever it was.

“Think I’m done with the squishing,” he said.

Aziraphale obligingly rolled sideways and bounced onto the bed. The sudden lack of weight made Crowley feel like he was made of air. He took a deep breath, rolling onto his back and stretching his neck. Aziraphale leaned up on his elbow and looked down at Crowley.

“Did that do what you wanted?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, trying to blink away the sleepy fuzziness. “I think so. Was definitely good. Thanks.”

“I’m glad.”

“How long’s it been, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale looked out the window. “Several hours, at least. You seemed very content, so I decided not to disturb you.”

“Sorry. You must’ve been bored.” 

“Not particularly. Seeing you happy makes me happy. Besides, I have often spent an afternoon or more not doing much of anything.”

Crowley was still getting used to Aziraphale saying things like “seeing you happy makes me happy” in such a matter-of-fact tone, and this time it drove all the words out of his head for several seconds. Finally he said, “Good.” After a minute he added, “Thanks. Again. It did- I feel...calmer. Or something. Definitely better.”

“Then it was an excellent use of an afternoon,” Aziraphale said, as though this were obvious. 

Crowley decided there wasn’t really anything more to say on the topic, so he made a vaguely agreeable noise and let it drop. 

Aziraphale sat up. “I think I’ll go downstairs for now, do some organizing. You’re welcome to stay here and nap if you’d like.”

Then he reached over and ruffled Crowley’s hair, which abruptly changed Crowley’s answer from the planned, “Nah, I’ll come down too,” to what actually came out of his mouth, which was, “Hmm.”

Aziraphale laughed and stood up. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

Then he was out the door.

Crowley sighed and curled around a pillow. Sleep sounded nice, though he had already had a good nap and wasn’t sure he could drift off again. Getting out of the nice, comfy bed sounded even harder, though, so he might as well stay for a while.

Problem was, with Aziraphale not here, his mind was finding it very easy to take a trip down good ol’ Insecurity Way. Aziraphale had said he didn’t mind the way they’d spent the afternoon, and the logical part of Crowley knew that he was telling the truth. Crowley was not, however, an entirely logical being. 

It was tempting to fall back on the tried-and-not-quite-true method of ignoring his problems until they got too big and exploded on him, but Crowley had been trying to use that one less, these days. He also knew that doing that in this case would mean losing the comfortable groundedness he had gotten hold of over the course of the afternoon, and he would rather hang onto that for a little longer. So there was really one good option left.

He sat up, slowly, and reached for his shoes. They were too far to reach from the bed, so he had to stand up and lean against the wall to put them on. Then he snagged his jacket from the table where he’d tossed it and slid it on on the way out the door. 

“Aziraphale?” he called as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale’s voice said from somewhere to his left. “I didn’t expect you to come down so soon!”

Crowley’s heart did an unpleasant twist, but then Aziraphale emerged, and he was smiling, and looked so wonderfully _normal_ that the twist loosened. 

“Couldn’t really sleep,” he mumbled.

“There’s always more chances,” Aziraphale said. “And I’m glad to see you, anyhow. Could you by any chance go and get a stool for me? Some of the books I need are on the high shelves, and I can’t quite reach them.”

Crowley could, and did. Then he carried a stack of books to the pile Aziraphale directed him to, then another. Then he gave up and sprawled on the ground, leaning against a bookshelf and pretending not to pull his feet out of the way as Aziraphale bustled back and forth. Aziraphale pretended to be annoyed with him for getting in the way, and Crowley rolled his eyes and said, “You love me,” to which Aziraphale retorted, “Sometimes I wonder,” punctuated with such an affectionate smile that Crowley moved his feet out of the way for real.

It had turned out to be, all in all, quite a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] “Deep” was relative here, given that the air had rather a lot of pillow to get through before reaching Crowley’s nose. [return to text]
> 
> I very much enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
